


the Lover's Tree

by Puffls



Series: Hold on Forever [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Fairy Tale Elements, Happy Ending, and how goldcliff is changed after it, ppl tell their children the story of the tree lesbians, retelling of events before and during pttm, the tree becomes a Big Part of goldcliff culture after pttm, thru the power of gay love hurley and sloane become legends, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 02:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11026926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puffls/pseuds/Puffls
Summary: In the center of Goldcliff Square, a cherry tree stands tall.Among the roots lay the masks of a raven and a ram, and in the air hangs the threads of a memory that becomes a legend within the town.





	the Lover's Tree

The cherry tree stands tall in Goldcliff: born of love, memorial of tragedy from an event no one remembers. Finely crafted masks of the Raven and the Ram sit at its roots, untouched by the sands of time. To move the masks would feel wrong. It would feel an intrusion, a tragedy, an offense to the tree. The cherry tree stands tall in the center of Goldcliff, and the town around them begins to piece together the story of the tree that is their protector.

Nobody remembers their names, so they take on what little about them is remembered. The Raven and the Ram. The Cop and the Thief. The racers. The lovers.

 

The tree itself is an anomaly. No such thing could grow in the dry, sandy terrain of Goldcliff, yet here it was. It thrived, despite the laws of nature. It ignored the change of seasons, petals scattering in the breeze year-round, a gentle splash of color against the dusty red soil.

Odd happenings occur around the Lover’s Tree.

Those who scrape by to make ends meet have claimed to find enough money among the roots for a meal to make it through the night. Those running from unwanted attention unjustly attracted find safety among the branches. The troubled find a wave of peace wash over them while in the gaze of the tree, a feeling of security and safety and _love._

Women meet their lovers by the tree, finding sanctuary among the web of roots and net of branches from the disdainful glare of their parents. They say that women who kiss in secret under the shadow of the Lover’s Tree are blessed by the spirit of the tree, are promised a happy ending by the women whose happy endings were stolen from them.

Sometimes battle wagon racers will visit the tree before races, in hopes of earning the luck of the lovers.

And as the wagons and carts and chariots race around the town, riders under animalistic guises, some say that if you were to listen very closely over the roar of engines and wheels, you could almost hear the screams of delight in the wind. The howls of laughter fueled by adrenaline as racers whipped around the track, kicking up clouds of dust that sometimes held the silhouette of another competitor, sometimes two. The echoes of banter and friendly taunts between spectral racers at the head of the pack kick up storms of dust beneath their wheels, shriek in the wind that deafens racers. Sometimes they say that if you were caught up in the dust storms, you could see a beaked figure out the corner of your eye begin to pad towards you on silent feet, whip at the ready, before you turn to see nothing. Others claim that they saw a short, stocky shape with the horns of a sheep leap over the edge of the cart before they were hit with a particularly strong gust of wind, or unbalanced by the uneven road. Some say that their fall from atop their chariots was almost cushioned, that they were saved by something, some force on the track from being run over by the wheels of competitors.

Some say it's merely luck.

Some say that the lovers refuse to be bound by their roots and run free on the tracks, just as they did before.

But some say that when the tracks are empty and the storms roll in, if you listen close, you will see the spirit of the lovers as they chase each other across the tracks, roaring with glee and delight and love and life as thunder rumbles above and gusts whip up all that is not tied down.

Mothers begin to tell children that storms are caused by the lovers going out to race, that the claps of thunder happen whenever they finish a lap. That the phenomena of weather is born of love, and fear can be overcome with just that, as there is no such force greater than love.

 

Here's the story of the Raven and the Ram.

They know that the Raven was a thief, a petty crook, a brilliant racer. They like to say that she grew up with nothing, that she struggled and chewed her way to the top. They like to say that she was almost like a Robin Hood-esque figure, stealing from the rich and giving back to the poor to help other folks get on their feet like she wished someone had done for her. They say she operated in the slums and tiptoed her way around gangs, slipping in and out of conflict like a shadow.

They know the Ram was a cop, an enforcer, a dreamer. They say she joined the militia to make the world a better place, that she genuinely cared for the people she looked over. They say she had a good head and a good heart and a love for excitement. That she fought against corruption both inside and outside the militia's ranks. They say she was steady, that she was strong, fiercely devoted, but she had a love for excitement and risks.

They say that the Ram was sent to catch the Raven by the militia, and the Raven eluded the Ram's grasp each time. They danced a dance of taunts and banter, back and forth between quick wits and a sharp tongue, and through their dance, they grew a mutual respect for each other. They danced their dance like the sea dances with the sky below the cliffs, locked in an eternal stalemate.

But here's the thing: no two forces can stay that way for long with the world turning the way the world does.

They don't know what happened. Some say that the Ram discovered the Raven's true cause for her thievery. Some say the Raven defended the Ram after she had been cornered by a gang of racers. Some say the Ram risked herself for the Raven and ended up injured. Some say the opposite.

Some simply say that the dance they danced was a thing of such beauty that both parties fell in love with the other at the same time through the grace at which they waltzed their way through this game of cat and mouse.

No one knows who fell for the other first, but none can deny that they were in love.

Because the Ram catches the Raven, and the Ram lets the Raven go.

Because the Ram lets the Raven go, and the Raven comes back to the Ram.

Because the Raven invites the Ram to race with her, and the Ram goes with.

Because the Raven and the Ram became partners in racing, just as they were in their dance. And they fought together with the wind whistling through their hair and delicately carved masks, punctuating the noise of rumbles and roars with their laughter and glee, and they fought, and they lived, and they won, and they won, and they won.

Because the Raven and the Ram were the masks they wore and without they were simply the lieutenant and the lieutenant's "friend".

And off of the tracks they continued their dance, because if they did not, someone else would be sent after the Raven, even though the Ram was the best the militia had to offer. Because the Ram would go to any lengths to protect the Raven.

And the Raven would go to any lengths to protect the Ram.

Because the Raven found a belt.

Because the Raven became a god.

Because the Raven broke the promise she made to the Ram: that she would never kill while racing. But she lost control, but she was only protecting the Ram, but she hadn't meant to make a mistake and a team ended up dead.

Because the Raven lost control as she fought the belt's influence, and the Raven slipped off into the night for the last time, looking to prove that there was no force stronger than she, that she could save the world, that she could protect her lover, that she could make a change.

And so the Raven and the Ram continued their dance, as the Ram fought to reach out to her lover and convince her that this wasn't her. And the Raven ran, to keep to herself, to keep herself from hurting the Ram. And so they danced, and so they danced, and so they danced: broken hearted and desperate to convince the other of their cause.

 

Here's the story.

They say a group of strangers came into Goldcliff, pursuing that which made the Raven into a god.

They say they listened to the Ram's plight, that the Raven wasn’t _her_ right now. That the Raven was alone and desperate, that she wasn’t _bad_ , only lost and trapped in a prison of her own body, wading through a haze of power.

They say the strangers challenged the Raven to a race, and through quick wits, won at the last moment. They say the Raven was devastated knowing that she was not as powerful as she thought, that she couldn’t accept the loss, that she couldn’t accept that her struggle with the belt had been for naught. They say the Raven realized she couldn’t fix the world like the belt promised.

They say the Raven had a moment of clarity, and then the belt swallowed her whole.

 

Here’s the story.

They say the strangers fought the monster the belt made of the Raven. They say they fought a losing battle, until the Ram drew close. They say the Ram gave the Raven the hope to change, the courage to be vulnerable again. They say the Ram’s love for the Raven convinced her to to fight the belt’s thrall once more.

But the belt was a powerful object, and the belt was smarter than that. They say the Raven gave up, but the belt was unwilling to release its grasp on the Raven. They say that it barricaded the Raven in silverpoint, determined to kill its host and anyone who dared draw close.

They say the Ram saved the Raven, flinging herself into the vines to free her lover, desperate to keep her after how hard she fought to get her back.

They say the sheer emotion and love that emanated off of the Ram saved the Raven, but could not save herself.

 

Here’s the story.

They say the Ram lay dying in the Raven’s arms, poison coursing through her veins as the Raven begged the strangers to keep such a thing from happening again.

They say the strangers promised her so, as that was what they came here for, and with their word, the Raven used the belt one last time. They say before the Ram drew her final breath, the Raven used her love to encase them in wood, making it so that they would never be separated from their embrace. And through their love, the cherry tree sprouted, turning their tragedy into a beautiful sight to behold.

 

 

The cherry tree stands tall in Goldcliff, a reminder of the dangers of power, the strength of love, and the ballad of two lovers locked in eternal embrace. And if you look closely among the roots and the trunk, they say you’ll see the outlines of two figures so close together that it is nearly impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. Among the roots lay two of the finest carved masks you’ll ever see, untouched by time itself. And if the world is quiet, and if you listen closely, they say that sometimes you can hear the lovers sing.

They say the lovers aren’t dead; they’ve merely removed themselves from the world. The lovers stand firm and tall, protecting the town that pitted them against each other before the world tried to tear them apart.

And from within the tree the lovers watch the world around them, content to remain within each other's embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> started this a lil while ago and figured I might as well toss it up. hurley and sloane are so important to me and i cry
> 
> hurley and sloane are Not Dead, they're sleeping and they're protecting the town and they're having a good good time together and they're in LOVE and they're gonna kick the hunger's ass while being a tree
> 
> my tumblr is whimsicmimic so. gimme a shout over there and we can appreciate the tree lesbians together


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